Chapter 4 - The Report That Should Never Have Existed
Daniel told me not to fly to Paris.
I booked a ticket anyway.
He canceled it.
I booked another.
He threatened to have my passport hidden.
I threatened to fire him.
Eventually we compromised.
I would go to Paris when the authorities were ready.
Until then, we would build the case.
Dr. Hargrove agreed to meet us.
His clinic occupied three floors of a quiet Georgian building in London. He was sixty, silver-haired and visibly furious.
"I have practiced medicine for thirty-one years," he said. "I have never met you."
He placed the forged report beside his genuine stationery.
The resemblance was nearly perfect.
"Could someone inside your clinic have created it?" Daniel asked.
"Yes."
"Elise Laurent?"
His mouth tightened.
"She had access."
"Who is she?"
"Administrative coordinator. French mother, British father. Worked here four years."
"Connection to Adrian Vale?"
"None that I know."
I slid the report toward him.
"Someone knew enough about me to make the lies believable."
That was what frightened me.
The report didn't invent random symptoms.
It weaponized truths.
I had been anxious.
I had told friends I believed Adrian was monitoring me.
I had become increasingly secretive about finances.
Every fact had been rotated until concern became pathology.
Dr. Hargrove removed his glasses.
"Whoever wrote this had information about your private life."
Daniel and I exchanged a glance.
"Could Elise access patient files connected to Adrian's family?"
"Possibly."
Adrian's mother had been treated there years earlier.
It was a thread.
Thin, but real.
Then Dr. Hargrove said something that made Daniel stop writing.
"Elise asked about Mrs. Vale's archived records two months ago."
"Adrian's mother?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"She said there had been an insurance request."
"Was there?"
"No."
The room became quiet.
Two months earlier.
Weeks before my accident.
The plan had started before I knew I needed to defend myself.
We left with copies of access logs.
Outside, Daniel said, "This was prepared."
"I know."
"No. I mean carefully prepared."
"I know."
He studied me.
"You're very calm."
"I don't have energy left for panic."
That wasn't entirely true.
Panic was always there.
I had simply learned to function beside it.
Every night I dreamed Leo was calling from another room.
Every morning I woke reaching for him.
But during daylight, I worked.
We traced accounts.
Phone records.
Company registrations.
Travel histories.
The shell companies receiving money from Bennett Atelier led through Luxembourg and eventually to a Paris consultancy.
Laurent Advisory SAS.
The surname again.
Elise Laurent.
When Daniel showed me, I stared at the document.
"Coincidence?"
"No."
"Can you prove it?"
"Not yet."
Then Marta called again.
This time she had more information.
Adrian had moved between serviced apartments.
He rarely left Leo alone with her.
He had begun introducing Celeste as someone who might "be part of the family."
And three nights later, Adrian had a reservation at Maison Bellange.
Daniel contacted the French authorities.
The restaurant owner was an old client of Bennett Atelier.
By some extraordinary piece of luck, he agreed to help.
The plan was simple.
I hated it immediately.
Wait inside.
Remain hidden.
Let investigators establish Adrian's presence.
Do not create a confrontation.
Then Adrian threatened Leo's bracelet.
And every careful plan disappeared.
Now, after the restaurant, that bracelet had led us to a second passport.
At Marta's apartment, Leo slept beside me.
I sat on the floor because I couldn't bring myself to move farther away.
Daniel arrived shortly after midnight.
He placed photographs on the kitchen table.
The second passport looked real.
Leo's photograph.
Leo's birth date.
Different surname.
VALE-LAURENT.
"How good is it?" I asked.
"Good enough to concern everyone."
"Why Laurent?"
"We're working on it."
"Elise."
"Probably."
"Where is she?"
"We don't know."
I looked toward the bedroom.
"What was Adrian planning?"
Daniel didn't answer.
"Daniel."
"We found something else."
Of course they had.
There was always something else.
He showed me a printed flight itinerary.
Paris to Geneva.
Geneva to Dubai.
Two passengers.
Adrian Vale.
Leo Vale-Laurent.
Departure date:
Tomorrow.
My stomach turned.
"If Marta hadn't called..."
"He might have been gone."
I stared at the paper.
"Could I have gotten him back?"
Daniel hesitated.
That was answer enough.
I stood and walked to the bedroom.
Leo was curled beneath a blanket, one hand beneath his cheek.
His bracelet remained around his wrist.
Tomorrow.
Twenty-four hours.
That was how close I had come to losing him again.
Daniel appeared in the doorway.
"Claire."
"I want Adrian prosecuted."
"We'll follow the evidence."
"I want everyone who helped him prosecuted."
"Claire."
"Don't tell me to calm down."
"I wasn't going to."
I turned.
"What were you going to say?"
"Elise Laurent entered France eleven days ago."
My pulse jumped.
"She's here?"
"Or was."
"Find her."
"The police are."
"No. We find her."
Daniel sighed.
"You realize lawyers generally discourage clients from conducting international investigations."
"You've been my lawyer for six weeks. You should know I'm a disappointing client."
"Catastrophic."
I almost smiled.
Then Leo moved.
I immediately returned to his side.
His eyes opened.
"Mommy?"
"I'm here."
"Tomorrow too?"
My throat tightened.
"Tomorrow too."
"And after tomorrow?"
I took his hand.
"As many tomorrows as I can give you."
He seemed satisfied.
His eyes closed again.
Daniel watched from the doorway.
After a moment, he said quietly, "We'll find her."
"Elise?"
"Yes."
But Elise found us first.
At 2:17 that morning, Daniel's phone received a message from an unknown French number.
It contained only an address and six words:
ADRIAN WILL SAY I HELPED HIM.
A second message arrived.
I HAVE THE ORIGINAL FILES. COME ALONE.
Daniel looked at me.
May you like
"No."
I was already reaching for my coat.
